


Shy-Flowering Nature

by Filomena



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Flowers, Fluff, M/M, florist!yamaguchi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:01:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26186089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Filomena/pseuds/Filomena
Summary: Yamaguchi isn’t sure how he got here. There was a sign, he was desperate from money, and the manager of the store was especially persuasive.“I’ll give you a raise if you stick with it,” the manager said, giving him a blinding smile. “Suga” was printed on his metal name tag in all caps.Yamaguchi didn’t trust the all caps. That doesn’t matter now, because he’s scored a job at a flower shop.Yamaguchi works at a flower shop. Tsukishima is a customer who happens to need a lot of flowers.
Relationships: Tsukishima Kei/Yamaguchi Tadashi
Comments: 8
Kudos: 162
Collections: TsukkiYama Week 2020





	Shy-Flowering Nature

Yamaguchi isn’t sure how he got here. There was a sign, he was desperate from money, and the manager of the store was especially persuasive.

“I’ll give you a raise if you stick with it,” the manager said, giving him a blinding smile. “Suga” was printed on his metal name tag in all caps.

Yamaguchi didn’t trust the all caps. That doesn’t matter now, because he’s scored a job at a flower shop. 

“Why am I here again?” he asks.

It’s an hour before opening time. Suga gives him a careless grin, hauling a pot onto a decorated stand. “So we can make it look nice.” He brushes a hair out of his face. “Why else would the customers come in?” 

Yamaguchi stares at the sunny, yellow walls, and the rows upon rows of vibrant flowers.

“Good point,” he replies, watching Suga flick dirt pieces off of the stand.

“It’s the first day, you know.” Suga is now pushing the pot slightly from certain angles. “If this goes badly, business will go belly up.” 

Yamaguchi has a very strong urge to say, _I don’t think that’s how business works,_ but Suga is starting to get a crazed gleam in his eye.

Even though he’s been working here for an hour, he’s found out several things: Suga’s very determined, and if you come in his way, he’ll probably kill you.

“Right.” 

The business cards on the side look slightly askew, so Yamaguchi busies himself with straightening them.

“Why are you straightening the cards?” Suga asks, looking up from behind the pot. “There’s no point in doing that. You should fix the plants instead.” 

Yamaguchi recoils from the cards, looking towards the plants on display. “Sorry,” he apologizes, and he rushes to the front of the store. 

From the corner of his eye, Suga is still fixing the position of the pot.

* * *

“A wedding?” Suga exclaims. He beams incredibly hard, and the bespectacled man in front of him balks in response. “That’s just wonderful. When are you booking us?”

The bespectacled man pushes up his glasses, giving a quick glance to Yamaguchi. “Last Monday of next month. But there’s stuff in between.”

Suga takes a form out of seemingly nowhere, and pushes it across the counter in a smooth motion. It lands right in front of the customer. “Fill it out, and we’ll see if we can fit you in.” 

Yamaguchi bites his tongue. The guy with glasses is their first customer, but Suga manages to make his white lie look convincing. 

_A true businessman,_ he thinks, slightly in a daze.

Suga leans over the form the bespectacled guy is filling. “Your name is Tsukishima Hotaru?” 

Tsukishima’s eyes flick upwards. “Tsukishima Kei.”

“Oooh.” Suga nods in understanding. “Nice name.”

Tsukishima hums, filling out the rest of the form. 

Yamaguchi dawdles in the back. There are customers filling up the shop healthily(which means that business won’t go belly up, he assumes), but none of them seem to require any assistance. 

“Yamaguchi,” Suga says, nodding towards the potted display. “You can fix up the display, if you want.”

There’s a hearty look in his eyes. Yamaguchi doesn’t want to get fired on his first day, so he makes his way to the display.

* * *

“Who’s the wedding for?” Yamaguchi asks, making a bouquet as per Suga’s instructions. He looks at the pair golden eyes from behind the towering flowers.

“My brother,” Tsukishima drawls. His phone vibrates in his pocket, so he stuffs it in his pocket. “And he happens to like flowers.”

Yamaguchi laughs, immediately regretting it. A sense of awkwardness takes over him as he says, “Explains all the bouquets.”

Tsukishima’s been ordering bouquets often. His brother is quite the celebration thrower, apparently.

“Tell me about it.” Tsukishima looks at the way Yamaguchi tucks a stem in. “I don’t like them, personally.” 

“You don’t?” Yamaguchi asks, turning the bouquet over so he can push the stubborn stem in. “Why not?”

Tsukishima wrinkles his nose. “Allergies.”

“Oh.” Yamaguchi’s thankful that he has his bouquet to busy himself with. “That sucks.”

“Yeah,” Tsukishima replies. He leans more onto his left leg. “I’m on allergy meds every time I come here.” 

Yamaguchi’s mouth quirks into a little smile. “You sure your brother doesn’t hate you?”

Tsukishima seems to notice his smile, because he tilts his head slightly. “No,” he answers, voice drier than the Sahara, “I think he’s trying to kill me slowly.” 

Yamaguchi bursts into laughter. A few of the flowers shift slightly as his shoulders shake.

* * *

“Suga,” Yamaguchi says, trying to make his voice sound remotely authoritative.

Suga looks up from the sheafs of client bookings he’s scheduling. “Huh?” 

Yamaguchi swallows harshly. “You said you’d give me a raise? If I stuck with it?”

“You’re sticking with it?” Suga says, sounding pleasantly surprised. “That’s great. Thanks. You’re a huge help.” 

His brows furrow when he registers the first half of Yamaguchi’s sentence. 

“Wait. Who said you were getting a raise?” 

* * *

“What do you do with the leftover flowers?” Tsukishima asks, watching Yamaguchi wrestle with a few roses. Despite having their stems stripped, a few thorns prick his fingers.

Yamaguchi waves his hand to stave off the pain. “The what?” he asks distractedly. He sees a bead of red on his pointer finger, and he internally groans.

“The leftover flowers,” Tsukishima repeats patiently. He’s wearing a black sweater and jeans. The simple outfit has no business looking that good on him. “What do you do with them?”

“Oh,” Yamaguchi says, voice becoming enthusiastic with recognition. Suga had schooled him on this when he was just starting out. 

Tsukishima raises an eyebrow expectantly.

“Well,” Yamaguchi begins, “they’re discounted. If that doesn’t work, they’re given to charity. Or they’re composted.” 

“So the ones in the back are unsold?” Tsukishima asks, talking about the row of flowers near the back of the store. 

Yamaguchi turns his head to look at them. “Yeah,” he says. The shop is a glorified rectangle, but Suga manages to hide the wilted flowers artfully. “Those ones will be composted, I think.”

“Huh.” 

The roses are done being worked with, so Yamaguchi pushes the final bouquet towards Tsukishima. “Do you want one?” he suddenly asks.

Tsukishima opens his mouth to respond, but Yamaguchi interrupts him again.

“They’re free. Since they’ll be composted, they’re not great looking, but-”

“Sure,” Tsukishima smoothly cuts off. 

Yamaguchi blinks. “Okay.” 

He makes his way around the counter, making sure the bouquet isn’t too close to the edge of the counter.

Tsukishima stands beside him. Yamaguchi can finally see his shoes, but most importantly, he can also see how tall he is.

And he’s pretty tall himself, so that’s saying something.

“Wow,” he says, and wants to facepalm. They’re walking towards the back of the store, and he almost bumps into several flower stands. “You’re so tall.” 

“Hm?”

Tsukishima has his hands in his pockets, and he looks at Yamaguchi questioningly.

“I mean.” Yamaguchi stops to push a cart into a straighter position. He can feel Tsukishima’s eyes on his back as he continues to walk. “You’re taller than me. And, you know, this is my first time seeing you behind the counter.”

“I guess,” Tsukishima replies, and his voice is as sonorous as always. Yamaguchi’s anxieties start to dispel immediately. “But hitting my head on door frames sucks.”

Yamaguchi smirks. He stops in front of the wilted flowers, turning his head towards Tsukishima. 

“Better than being short.”

Tsukishima does something surprising in response: he smiles, more like smirks, and Yamaguchi’s heart skips a beat.

“True,” he replies, his mouth curling tantalizingly. “I suppose there’s nothing worse than being short.”

Yamaguchi can’t help but snicker, and he hides it behind his hand. He uses his other one to point at the row of wilted flowers. 

“Anyways, these are the ones that have to be composted. You can choose one.” He gestures towards the row like a car salesman.

Tsukishima looks at the flowers and raises his eyebrows. He stoops down, bending his lithe body in half, and pokes the petal of a begonia. “These don’t look too bad,” he says. “You could probably still do something with them.” 

“Not really,” Yamaguchi responds. He watches Tsukishima adjust himself so he’s resting on his haunches. “They’re more than ten days old.”

“Ten days is a short amount of time.” Tsukishima unfurls the wilted petal of a casablanca lily.

“But they’re cut. And plus,” Yamaguchi reasons, brightening up slightly, “they’ll become compost for the next flowers, so Suga doesn’t have to buy any.” 

Tsukishima hums thoughtfully. “Cyclical. That makes sense.” 

“Yeah, cyclical!” Yamaguchi repeats, relieved at the lightened mood.

“What do you recommend I do with them?” Tsukishima asks, turning his head to look at Yamaguchi. He seems to like the casablanca lily, even though it’s beginning to wilt. 

The question catches Yamaguchi off guard. “Decorating, I guess?” he says. He doesn’t know what else to answer. “You could make your own bouquet.”

“Nah.” Tsukishima begins to look at the flower beside the casablanca lily. “I don’t know how. I’d probably ruin it.”

Yamaguchi tilts his head. “They’re flowers. I doubt you can ruin them.”

An idea comes to his mind. “You know that game in fairytales?” he asks, stooping down to Tsukishima’s level. He straightens out the pots in front of him.

“What game?”

Clearing dirt from the front of the pots, Yamaguchi says, “The ‘he loves me, he loves me not’ one?”

Tsukishima’s eyes flick towards Yamaguchi’s. “Really?”

“Well.” Yamaguchi shoves his arm between the pots, pushing dried debris away. He uses the motion to hide his embarrassed face. “I can’t think of anything else.”

Tsukishima snorts. “And you work at a flower shop.”

“Part timer at a flower shop,” Yamaguchi corrects, retracting his arm. “And now that I think about it, you can’t do much with flowers.”

There’s rustling as Tsukishima gets up. He looks at Yamaguchi, who’s still on the ground. “Wish my brother knew that.” He offers a hand.

Yamaguchi accepts it, hauling himself up. He pats down his jeans. “It doesn’t mean they’re entirely useless.”

An inquisitive look appears on Tsukishima’s face. “True,” he muses.

* * *

“Are you sure you want to purchase this?” Yamaguchi asks, holding a few wrapped flowers in his hand. “You could get another bouquet. It’s more cost effective.”

“I’m sure.” Tsukishima plucks a few bills out of his pocket, placing them in Yamaguchi’s waiting palm. “If I order any more flowers, I’ll go into an anaphylactic attack.” 

Yamaguchi’s eyes widen. “You have that many flowers in your house?”

Sighing, Tsukishima flips his wallet shut. “There was an issue with the venue,” he drawls, beginning to look utterly miserable, “and now they’re being stored there.” 

He stuffs his wallet into his back pocket. Upon closer inspection, his eyes are rimmed slightly red, and his voice sounds slightly stuffy.

“Uh,” Yamaguchi says, taking in the image with sympathy, “I think your brother’s plan is working.” 

Tsukishima looks up in surprise. “What plan?” 

“...The one to kill you,” Yamaguchi says hesitantly.

Tsukishima barks out a laugh. “I wish he’d hurry up,” he says, brushing his nose slightly. He looks cute when he sniffles.

“How would he hurry up?” Yamaguchi asks, the bouquet in his hands forgotten. “Inject you with pollen?”

“Probably.” Tsukishima crosses his arms. “I wonder why he can’t just elope.” 

Yamaguchi slides the bundle of flowers in front of Tsukishima. “Weddings are nice, though,” he says innocently, imagining the venue Tsukishima’s brother would probably have. 

“Even if the groom’s brother dies from a pollen overdose?” 

Grinning, Yamaguchi places his hands behind his back. “Even if the groom’s brother dies from a pollen overdose,” he parrots, relishing in the playful exasperation that comes over Tsukishima’s face. 

“Sounds like we have different priorities,” Tsukishima rumbles. His voice is dry and smooth. Yamaguchi finds himself leaning into it. 

Tsukishima picks up the flowers gingerly. “Actually.” His voice is suddenly short, and the flowers swing in his hand like a pendulum. “Do you have any more flowers you need to compost?”

“Huh?” Yamaguchi says dumbly, and snaps out of his daze. “Oh. Yeah, we do. Why?”

The flowers stop swinging in Tsukishima’s hand. “My brother likes free stuff,” he says. “Could I pick one out?” 

Yamaguchi brightens. More time with Tsukishima sounds good, and also something he doesn’t mind risking Suga’s wrath for.

“Sure!” he responds, beaming. He makes his way around the counter, barely grazing his midriff with the corner of it.

Tsukishima looks at him in mild surprise. Upon closer inspection, he looks like he’s dying a slow death from pollen.

The tip of his nose is tinged pink. Yamaguchi averts his eyes to the ground, because goddamnit, that should not be affecting him as much as it does. 

“What?” Tsukishima asks. He sounds slightly self conscious. “Is there something on my face?” 

“Uh,” Yamaguchi stutters, ripping his eyes from the ground to Tsukishima’s face. “No. I thought I saw something.”

Tsukishima glances at the ground. “Saw what?” he asks, his brow slightly furrowing. 

“A bug,” Yamaguchi smoothly answers, thanking God that he works in a flower shop. He begins to walk to the back of the shop, continuing with, “There’s a lot of them.” 

“Probably because it’s a flower shop,” Tsukishima mutters, but doesn’t seem curious anymore. 

Yamaguchi lets his shoulders relax. Small crisis averted. He points at the rack they’ve reached, which is full to the brim with wilted flowers.

“Here they are,” he says, watching the way Tsukishima’s nose wrinkles as he sniffles. “The flowers that have to be composted.”

Tsukishima nods, moving so he stands beside Yamaguchi.

“There’s less than last time,” he notes, staring up at the rack of drooping flowers.

Yamaguchi matches his gaze. “Because your brother bought a lot.”

Sighing, Tsukishima repositions his hand on the flowers he holds. “He buys that much?” he complains. He looks up at the rack of casablanca lilies. 

“Uh, yeah.” Yamaguchi studies the casablanca lilies, which seem to be less wilted than the other flowers. “He’s giving us a lot of business, actually. I should thank him.”

Tsukishima’s eyebrow raises. “At least he’s doing something right,” he says, his voice slightly scathing. He reaches a lanky arm over to pet a casablanca lily. His limbs are enviously long. 

“Does your brother like casablanca lilies?” Yamaguchi asks, head tilting. 

The casablanca lily’s petal molds around Tsukishima’s finger. “Yeah,” he answers, after a while of touching the petal. 

He sounds almost hesitant. Yamaguchi takes note of it in the back of his mind.

“And roses,” Tsukishima continues, “because he’s corny.”

Yamaguchi laughs. The door’s bell tinkles in the background, and Suga’s cheery voice rings out in the shop. “Roses aren’t bad,” he chides, his hands clasped behind his back pleasantly. “I like them.”

Tsukishima turns his head to look at him. “You do?” 

“They have a nice shape,” Yamaguchi says lamely, taken aback by the sudden attention. “And, uh, they come in nice colours.”

Awkward. Yamaguchi is so awkward, and he feels like stuffing his head into the rack to hide his face.

Tsukishima hums in agreement. “That’s true,” he says. He turns back to look at the casablanca lilies. 

“But lilies have a better shape, in my opinion,” he adds on. He picks a casablanca lily out of one of its many jars.

Yamaguchi swallows. The sight makes his heart thud in his chest - Tsukishima is holding the stem tenderly, watching the bulb of the flower flop over slightly. 

_I’m completely fucked, aren’t I?_ He thinks, watching Tsukishima jostle the flower upright. It flops over again. 

“It’s old,” Yamaguchi helpfully interjects, ripping himself out of his thoughts. “So it’s not as upright as a newer flower.”

Tsukishima uses his pointer finger to prop the flower up. “That’s not a problem.” He looks down into the flower, despite his nose starting to wrinkle more.

He sniffles slightly. It sounds cute. 

_I’m definitely fucked,_ Yamaguchi confirms. He hopes his face isn’t red. Suga won’t let him hear the end of it. 

“What was the thing you mentioned last time?” Tsukishima asks. He finally stops looking at the flower. His lamp-like eyes seem to pierce into Yamaguchi’s. 

“What?” Yamaguchi asks. “I, uh,” he stutters, scrambling to think of what they talked about previously. “I don’t remember.”

Tsukishima gazes at him patiently. “The fairytale thing?” 

“Oh!” Yamaguchi nods fervently. “The fairytale. It was the ‘he loves me, he loves me not’ thing, right?”

“Yeah.” Tsukishima tucks the wilted casablanca lily into his packet of flowers. “I was thinking about flower usage the other day,” he starts.

 _You were?_ Yamaguchi thinks dazedly.

“And I couldn’t really come up with anything,” Tsukishima continues, snapping Yamaguchi’s attention back to him. 

“Actually,” Yamaguchi says, because he was also thinking about flower usage the other day, “neither could I.”

“The fairytale thing isn’t that bad of an idea.” Tsukishima fixes the plastic of his packet. The crinkling sound barely registers in Yamaguchi’s mind.

“It’s not?” Yamaguchi asks. 

“No.” Tsukishima rests the flower stems in his right hand.

“Oh,” Yamaguchi responds. He’s at a loss of words, for some reason. “That’s-”

“Yamaguchi?” Suga calls out, from across the shop. He has a line of customers in front of him, and he blows a piece of hair out of his face.

 _Oh, shit._ Yamaguchi straightens his posture, turning around slowly. “Yeah?” he calls out, not sure how to salvage his situation.

“Could you make a few bouquets for me?” Suga asks. He doesn’t look pissed in the slightest.

Even though he’s across the shop, Yamaguchi can see a glint of impishness in his eyes. 

_Not good,_ Yamaguchi thinks frantically, giving Tsukishima an apologetic smile. _Not good at all._

“Sure, Suga,” he responds, and hurries to the front of the store, but not before giving Tsukishima a little wave. 

* * *

Suga grins as he makes his way to the counter, two baskets of flowers in each arm. 

“So,” he says breezily, settling them on the metal surface. He reaches out to push the tags, which boast _Suga’s Flowers_ on ornate paper, to the front.

“Yeah?” Yamaguchi says, purposefully cutting off Suga’s bated response. Maybe he can redirect the conversation quickly. “Actually, Suga, there’s this flower arrangement-” 

“Tsukishima’s a married man, Yamaguchi,” Suga says, his face contorting into disapproval. The expression change is frankly terrifying. “And I’m not your parent, but I’m still your boss, and-”

“Wait, what?” Yamaguchi blinks. He drops the pen he was fiddling with. “Who said he was married?”

Suga blinks back at him. “He’s been buying all these flowers. Don’t tell me you-” 

“He’s not married,” Yamaguchi cuts off, raising his hands in abatement. “Suga, his _brother_ is getting married. _”_

Suga’s expression mollifies immediately. “Okay.” He pushes the flower baskets out of the way. “Okay,” he repeats, and his shoulders immediately sag. “I thought you were…”

“A homewrecker?” Yamaguchi asks disbelievingly.

Suga adjusts the flower baskets, even though they’re immaculately arranged. “Well,” he ekes out. “From the way you were flirting with him, I thought that-”

“I wasn’t flirting!” Yamaguchi interrupts, his cheeks heating up.

Raising an eyebrow, Suga shifts the tag on the basket. “From the way you were flirting with him,” he repeats primly, and Yamaguchi thinks his face has gone entirely red, “I thought you were trying to start stuff.”

“I mean,” Yamaguchi stutters, digging his hand into the metal countertop, “I _am_ starting stuff, but not with a married man.”

“So you like him?” Suga says, immediately hounding in on him. “You know, I’m not going to be any less strict with you.” 

Yamaguchi wishes he had stopped talking. “Uh, yeah,” he says unspecifically. “I know.”

Suga looks at him expectantly.

“I won’t slack off on my job,” Yamaguchi finishes lamely. “I promise.”

Nodding in approval, Suga finally stops adjusting the flower baskets. “Good.”

“...Hello?” a voice cuts through. It’s a sonorous drawl. Oh god. 

Yamaguchi shoves a flower basket out of the way, revealing Tsukishima standing off to the side. 

_Just how much did he hear?_ Yamaguchi thinks harriedly. 

Suga beams at him. “Hey, Tsukishima!” he greets. He looks as cheerful as always, but Yamaguchi is suspicious nonetheless. “Your flower baskets are here.”

Tsukishima fiddles with his fingers. “Thanks,” he says, bringing his hands down. He makes his way to the counter, eyeing the flowers warily.

His eyes aren’t as red as last time. He’s probably upped the allergy medicine, Yamaguchi muses. 

“Your brother likes flowers, huh?” Suga asks. 

“You could say that,” Tsukishima says dryly. 

“That’s a good thing,” Suga answers easily. “It’s also great for our business.”

Tsukishima nods. 

Suga nods back carelessly. “I have to sort out the composted flowers,” he says, even though Yamaguchi just finished doing that, “so I’ll be on my way.”

Yamaguchi wants to groan. Suga’s up to something, but because Tsukishima is looking intently at the two of them, he keeps his mouth shut.

“Thanks, Suga,” he says. _Even though I already did that,_ he wants to add on. 

Tsukishima watches Suga leave, and then fixes a look of detest on the flower baskets. 

“I think I hate flowers now,” he says tonelessly. He looks utterly miserable. 

Yamaguchi snickers. “You sure? Most people would still like them.” 

Tsukishima inspects the baskets full of roses and daisies. “They’re everywhere,” he begins. “I have to store them in my old room.”

The tip of his nose is still slightly pink. Yamaguchi bites back a smile, and busies himself by putting a pen back. 

“If the venue doesn’t open,” Tsukishima continues, “I’m going to break in there and arrange everything myself.”

“You’d really do that?” Yamaguchi asks, letting a smile grow on his lips. “You hate them that much?”

Waking up to flowers doesn’t seem that bad. He thinks he’d enjoy such a thing, actually.

“Every time I wake up, I have a near death experience,” Tsukishima deadpans.

Yamaguchi laughs, full bodied and shameless. 

Tsukishima frowns at the baskets. “I don’t know what he’s going to do with all of these,” he says, a thoughtful look coming over his face. 

“To be honest,” Yamaguchi admits, mentally counting the massive amount of flowers Tsukishima has picked up, “I’m not too sure, either.”

“Aren’t you a part timer at a flower shop?” Tsukishima parries, raising a delicate eyebrow. 

“Well,” Yamaguchi says, “I’m not full time.” He picks up the pen again, placing it between his thumb and pinkie.

Tsukishima sighs. “That’s true,” he says, poking a leaf that sticks out of the flower basket.

A lingering thought surfaces in Yamaguchi’s mind. “You know that fairytale thing you mentioned?”

“Yeah?”

“...What if you just used that, except for everything?”

Tsukishima snorts. “Maybe,” he says, leaning off of the counter to cross his arms. He’s wearing a black turtleneck, and it strikes deliciously against his pale skin. “It would make my brother less indecisive, which is always a good thing.”

“And you could just compost everything,” Yamaguchi says. “And grow more stuff.”

“Cyclical,” Tsukishima says, repeating what he said ages ago. “I like it.” 

Yamaguchi grins. His nametag shifts on his apron slightly, so he straightens it out. 

Tsukishima’s cheeks colour slightly. Probably because of his allergy, since his face is so close to the flower baskets.

“I’ll get going, then,” he says, holding the baskets with his lithe hands. He lifts them off of the counter, beginning to move back.

“See you later!” Yamaguchi says, tapping the end of the pen on the counter. He has a myriad of bouquets to arrange. Spending time with Tsukishima is always nice, though.

Tsukishima hefts the baskets in his hands. At Yamaguchi’s words, he stops in his tracks, the baskets swinging slightly in their place.

“Actually.” His voice comes out short and stilted. 

Yamaguchi looks up from the pen he was playing with. “Yeah?” he asks, and notes that the colour in Tsukishima’s cheeks hasn’t gone away.

Tsukishima fiddles with his fingers. The flower baskets knock into each other.

“...Want to go out with me some time?” he asks. He sounds uncharacteristically hesitant.

“What?” Yamaguchi says. His head fills with white noise. His ears are probably failing him. Is he hallucinating?

Tsukishima clears his throat. He looks intensely uncomfortable. “Do you want to…” he says, pausing out of sheer discomfort, “go out with me?”

Yamaguchi blinks. He feels his nametag skew slightly, and the pen in his hand stills.

“Uh,” he stutters, his composure coming back to him in one fell swoop, “sure! Yeah. Of course.”

The flower baskets in Tsukishima’s hands knock into each other again. His shoulders relax significantly, and he shifts his grip on them. “When are you free?” he asks. He hasn’t stopped fiddling with his fingers.

“After six,” Yamaguchi answers, slightly in a daze.

“So I’ll meet you here after your shift?” Tsukishima asks. The red on his cheeks dusts over his nose, and seems to hold the basket more tightly.

“Uh huh.”

Tsukishima hoists the baskets up higher. “Okay,” he answers, his voice steady and controlled. His face says otherwise. “I’ll be on my way, then.”

Yamaguchi beams. His cheeks feel incredibly hot. “Alright,” he replies, relieved that he hasn’t stuttered. “See you.” 

Nodding, Tsukishima says, “See you.” 

In the blink of an eye, he goes out the door. All that remains is Yamaguchi, who’s standing at the counter, and Suga, who shoots him a playful grin from across the store.

**Author's Note:**

> hello! ty for reading this far. i posted this late bc it took a while. i have a draft for the free day prompt, but it'll take a lot of time to write, so i don't think i'll be publishing it during tskymweek(or even within the deadline).
> 
> still, idk how i managed to publish so much stuff this week. probably bc tskym has so much power over me lmao.
> 
> anyways, since this is probably the last prompt i'll be posting, i just wanted to say that this community is so sweet. regardless of which platform tskym is on, everyone is chill and vibing and here to have a good time. even tskym twitter is so kind and supportive - the interactions i've had are the best fandom ones to date.
> 
> ([here's my twitter](https://twitter.com/burningutica) and [here's my tumblr](https://phyllomena.tumblr.com/) if you want to hmu! have a great day/night.)


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